


Family Ties

by JBankai89



Series: The Twelve Days of Smutmas [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus is a Drama Queen, Christmas, Christmas Themed, Established Relationship, Family Issues, First Time, Gryffindor Bashing, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Head Boy Scorpius, Head Girl Rose, Hogwarts years, Kids Era, M/M, PostWar, Prejudical Language, Quidditch Captain Lily, Sneaky Slytherins, awkward virgins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: Albus is dreading returning home for the holidays, where he will spend two weeks being teased by his siblings, cousins, and one uncle about his house affiliations, a running joke that after seven years still has not lost its momentum. His boyfriend, Scorpius, extends an invitation for Albus to stay with the Malfoys over Christmas, and Albus thinks it's a brilliant idea. There is only one thing standing in the way: Permission from his father.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I could have probably turned this one into a full-length fic if I wanted to, so cutting it down was a pain. Ages information and things pulled from the wiki, any mistakes age-wise are because I don't know how to math. This is my first attempt at scorpus smut, so we'll see how this goes. Also house affiliations pulled from a number of sites along with the wiki, those I couldn't find a house affiliation for I guessed. (Also as far as I am concerned Cursed Child never happened.)

Special thanks to Faladrast for the awesome graphic! Check them out on [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/Faladrast-118654891940425/?fref=ts) or at [**http://faladrast.weebly.com/**](http://faladrast.weebly.com/)

* * *

 

Family Ties

 

“You're doing it again.”

Albus looked up from the crackling fire of the Slytherin common room to Scorpius, who was regarding him with a cocked eyebrow over his Potions essay.

“Doing what again?” Albus asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he regarded his boyfriend.

“Staring into space,” Scorpius said, “are you aware that I have watched you do that every year, without fail, right before we're due to go home for the holidays?”

“I can't help it,” Albus mumbled, lifting a hand to rake it through his hair and he shifted his gaze back to the crackling flames. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my family, but...”

“But...?” Scorpius prompted when Albus trailed off.

“Spending two weeks being called a traitor by your siblings and cousins—and one uncle—for being sorted into Slytherin is kind of exhausting,” Albus said, grimacing at the thought at what awaited him when he got off the train. “You'd think after seven years they'd come up with something else to focus on, but no, it's always 'oh look, here comes the traitorous Slytherin, ha ha ha.' I'm just not exactly looking forward to that part of it.”

“Your father usually puts a stop to it though, doesn't he?” Scorpius asked, casting a quick glance around the busy common room before he reached over and gave Albus's hand a small squeeze. Despite the fact that they'd been together for close to six months, neither were keen to broadcast their relationship(Albus moreso than Scorpius), and thus they had kept it quiet.

“When he catches them at it, yeah, but it's still tiring. If they're gonna tease me, the least they could do is come up with some new material,” Albus said, squeezing the hand back once before he moved to cradle his head in his hands. Memories of holidays past when he'd been called everything from _traitor_ to _the next Dark Lord_ danced through his mind, and he sighed despondently. He really hated it. He knew that they weren't serious—well, mostly—but that knowledge did little to ease the sting their words always caused.

Scorpius slammed his hand down on the tabletop and jarred Albus from his thoughts. Albus sat up and turned to face him and saw Scorpius's grey eyes glittering in a way that told Albus one thing: He had an idea.

“I have an idea,” Scorpius said, validating Albus's suspicion at once. “Come to the Manor for Christmas and spend the season surrounded by other Slytherins for a change. It's not like we lack space to house you, and father is always reminding me that you're more than welcome.”

“I _wish_ ,” Albus said with a half moan and flopped back in the chair, “that's be so great, but my dad would _never_ agree to it. He's so family-centric round Christmas.”

“And who are we if not Slytherins up to a challenge?” Scorpius asked, arching a brow and Albus smirked. “He was a Gryffindor; all brawn, no brains. We'll convince him easily.” Despite Scorpius's confidence in that fact, Albus wasn't so sure.

“My dad's not the typical brainless Gryffindor though,” Albus replied, sitting up a little as he spoke. Despite his certainty that his father would never agree to it, the idea of spending a Christmas _away_ from a bunch of obnoxious Gryffindors was a nice thought. He was very tempted to actually try asking, despite the futility of the request. He knew his father well enough to know that he would _definitely_ say no.

“And how's that?” Scorpius asked, “Father told me about all the stupid stunts he got up to at school, it sounds all very much like typical Gryffindor pattern behaviour to me.”

“He was almost sorted into Slytherin,” Albus replied, and laughed when Scorpius's eyebrows shot up in surprise, “he told me first year, just as I got on the train. He's a little cleverer than the usual Gryffindor.”

“Hmm, then we'll really need to think about this,” Scorpius said, clearly not accepting Albus's adamant ' _he will never say yes'_ explanation. He drew a clean sheet of parchment from his bag, and loaded his quill with ink.

 

Despite Albus's reservations, Scorpius's enthusiasm was infectious. Bowed bowed over the parchment, together they composed a letter to Albus's father, writing and rewriting it until it was perfect. Albus did not want it to be too long, as that would lend itself to unnecessary pleading, and he was certain that that was _not_ the way to get permission.

Once they'd finished, Albus sat back and looked over the letter, hope and doubt dancing through his mind in equal measure.

 

_Dad,_

 

_Scorpius invited me to stay for Christmas. He says Mr Malfoy won't have a problem with my being there, and if I'm being honest it'd be nice to go one holiday without Uncle Ron teasingly threatening to have me disinherited because I'm a Slytherin. I would really like to go._

 

_Al_

 

He sent the letter off with a school owl before he could second-guess himself out of it, and within two days he received a response, and it read almost exactly as Albus had expected it to.

 

_Al,_

 

_Christmas is a time for family, you know that. You can see Scorpius after the holidays, or when you're back at school. You know your uncle doesn't mean it, he's just kidding around, but I can talk to him about it if you like._

 

_See you soon,_

_Dad_

 

“Good Lord your father has awful handwriting,” Scorpius commented as he stood over Albus, who had been stretched out on his four-poster as he read the short letter. “How is yours so neat?”

“I write like my mum,” Albus answered tiredly as he tossed the letter aside. Scorpius dropped gracelessly onto the end of the bed and dragged Albus to him. He sat up, and rearranged his face into something he hoped was neutral as he looked over at his blond companion. “Told you it wouldn't work.”

“We can't give up so easily,” Scorpius protested, wrapping his arms around Albus in an awkward embrace. “Hand me a quill and some parchment, the war isn't over yet.”

“How do I let you talk me into these things?” Albus muttered as he handed Scorpius the requested items.

“Because you love me, and would do anything for me,” Scorpius replied airily, and summoned a hardback book with a flick of his wand as he began to compose a response. Despite his disbelief that it would work, Albus bent over the parchment and added in his comments here and there, then rewrote it, and brought it up to the Owlery.

 

_Dad,_

 

 _Technically the Malfoys_ are _family—we're third cousins. It's not like I would be spending Christmas away from family._

_And don't talk to Uncle Ron, it's not worth it. He never listens to you, anyway._

 

_Al_

 

His father's response arrived just as quickly as the first one had, and in spite of his absolute certainty that his request would be rejected, the letter contained a pleasant surprise.

 

_Al,_

 

_Nice try, smartass._

_Listen, I talked it over with your mother, and if you really want to spend Christmas with the Malfoys, I have_ one _condition. You spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning with us, and you can go to Draco's for Christmas Dinner. I checked with him to make sure you weren't having me on, and he says you may stay the night if you want._

 

_See you soon, and try not to let the others get to you, you know they don't mean it._

_Dad_

 

Albus couldn't believe his eyes. He handed the letter to Scorpius, who had been sitting on his bed next to him when he'd opened it. His mouth split into a wide grin. He tossed it aside and drew Albus into a kiss.

“Just you wait and see,” Scorpius whispered, then leant in to kiss him again, “this is going to be the best Christmas you've ever had.”

  

~*~

 

In the lead-up to heading home for the holidays, Albus quickly learnt that he needed to moderate his outward excitement over the prospect of spending Christmas _away_ from his family. Within a handful of days, all the family members that were still attending Hogwarts seemed to know that he would be spending Christmas Night away from the Burrow, and they were less than pleased about it, especially when they found out where he'd be instead.

At breakfast five days before they were due to head home for Christmas, Albus had barely sat down with Scorpius and their mutual friends when his sister (closely followed by his four cousins) came rushing over to the Slytherin table.

“Al, we need to talk to you,” Lily said without preamble.

“What about—oh. That,” Albus said, catching sight of the creased scroll of parchment in her hand. He exchanged a look with Scorpius then looked back to her. “Why? What's the crisis?”

Lily's eyes shifted to the Slytherins, and Albus frowned at the clear look of distrust in her eyes. Instead of answering, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him forcibly away.

“Lily— _ack! Let go!_ ” Albus protested, but she ignored him in favour of dragging him out of earshot of his friends and shoved a letter into his face, which was from his mother, detailing the minor change in holiday plans.

“What on earth is _this_ about? Why aren't you gonna be with us for Christmas Night?” She demanded, her expression caught between hurt and fury.

“Scorpius invited me to stay for the holidays, and Dad said I could spend Christmas Night there,” Albus explained with a shrug, while he struggled to ignore the horrified looks on the faces of his family members. “What's the big deal?”

“The _big deal_ is that he's a bloody Sly—Malfoy,” Hugo amended, his arms crossed across his chest, his cheeks flushing at the too-late remembrance that Albus, too, was a Slytherin.

“And?” Albus asked.

“Oh come on Al,” Lily protested, her shiny _Quidditch Captain_ badge catching the light as she stood before him. “Christmastime is _family_ time. You should be at home with us!”

“And I _will_!” Albus snapped angrily, utterly losing his patience with his younger sister. “I'll be at the Burrow Christmas Eve and our house Christmas Morning! This isn't some national crisis, I'd just rather spend time with people who aren't gonna spend the whole holidays heckling me for what house I was sorted into!”

Albus quickly shut his mouth when he realized what he'd said, and Lily looked as though she'd been slapped.

“I have to go,” Albus muttered, and pulled away from the five Gryffindors and went back to the table, where he grabbed a slice of toast and a green apple as the bell tolled, and abandoned his table manners completely as he crammed the toast into his mouth and stowed the fruit in his pocket for later. Scorpius handed him his bag, and they made for first-period Charms.

“I'm assuming your family got the happy news?” Scorpius prompted, and Albus glanced over to see his sister being consoled by Roxanne. Both shot him a nasty glare, and he quickly looked away.

“They're acting like I've decided to up and leave for Tibet or something,” Albus grumbled, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder as they walked. “I sort of blurted out a variation of, 'if you didn't gang up on me every holiday I wouldn't feel compelled to celebrate the festivities elsewhere'. I didn't mean to say it, it just sort of slipped out.”

“Well, what did they expect?” Scorpius prompted, raising his eyebrows at Albus. “You've complained to me half a dozen times about all the 'good-natured pranks' your cousins have pulled on you over the years. After putting up with that for so long it's no wonder you'd want to spend it with decent people for a change.”

They took their usual seats halfway into the classroom, and Albus watched Rose file in with the rest of the Gryffindors. She frowned at him, but did not seem to carry the absolute fury that his sister and the others had. He supposed to be Head Girl one had to be at least halfway decent, but she looked no happier about the news than the others did.

“If she starts badgering me to make you change your mind at our next meeting with the Prefects, I'm breaking up with you,” Scorpius muttered, and Albus grinned a little as he swallowed a laugh.

“Ah, the struggles of being Head Boy,” Albus replied, and Scorpius smirked.

“You don't know the _half_ of it.” 

~*~

  

After nearly a week of being harassed by his sister and cousins (even after his father sent them all letters telling them to leave him alone) Albus chose a compartment _far_ away from them on the train ride home.

“And they wonder _why_ I don't want to spend the holidays with them,” Albus grumbled as he banged his head back against the seat's upholstery. “I swear, I'll be singing praises to your father for letting me stay a while. That will be my _real_ holiday.”

“Well, I'm not certain how Father will feel about you singing for him, but he reminds me all the time that you're always welcome, to get away from the Sea of Gryffindor Stupidity, as he puts it,” Scorpius replied as he pressed a chocolate frog into Albus's hand.

“Well he's not wrong,” Albus muttered as he straightened up, unwrapped the sweet, and stuffed it into his mouth as he checked the card. “Got my dad again, you want it?” He asked, holding the _Harry Potter_ card out. Snickering, Scorpius accepted it—they were still waiting for Draco Malfoy to happen upon Scorpius's vast collection of _Harry Potter_ chocolate frog cards. He'd been collecting them for the past year and a half, _just_ to see how his father would react if (or rather, _when_ ) he found them.

“I mean,” Albus continued, “my aunt is always going on and on about house unity and accept our differences and things, but how does she expect me to celebrate house unity when my older brother routinely and repeatedly refers to me as a traitor, and claims that your dad's training me up to be a Death Eater?”

Scorpius stared, the card still held aloft in his hand.

“He actually _said_ that?” Scorpius asked aghast.

“Dad about murdered him over it, but yeah.” Albus flopped back against the seat again, utterly dreading the idea of spending a few days with his family. At least Teddy would be there, and Albus had always gotten on really well with him.

“Well,” Scorpius said, drawing Albus out of his morose thoughts, and rested a not-so-casual hand on Albus's knee, “I'll write you every day to make sure they haven't hexed you, and at least you'll have one shred of sanity to get you through the few days that I won't be at your side.”

“Oh how _will_ I cope with only your words for company!” Albus said dramatically, clapping a hand over his heart.

“Do not despair, my dear Albus,” Scorpius said in the same dramatic tone as he took his hands. “For we need only be parted until the moon doth wane, and we shall be reunited once more.”

Albus kissed him chastely, a short laugh escaping him as what his companion had said registered in his mind.

“ _The moon doth wane_?” He asked, and Scorpius shrugged.

“Seemed fitting, and it _is_ a waning moon over Christmas this year,” Scorpius said, their fingers still intertwined as the darkening countryside flicked past their window.

“You sometimes remind me of my aunt,” Albus said with a snort, and Scorpius stared at him with confusion.

“You know, as far as sexy comparisons for your significant other go...that isn't one of them.”

“No!” Albus laughed, “I just mean you know everything.”

“Considering I had more private tutors than house elves growing up, my highly advanced intellect isn't exactly that shocking,” he replied smoothly, and Albus snorted again.

“And _now_ you sound like your father.” Scorpius smirked.

“Good.”

 

They whiled away the afternoon by alternating between chatting, snogging, and eating far too much chocolate. Albus was doing his level best to absorb this peaceful happiness while it lasted, given that once he got home he was likely to get an earful from his brother over where he'd decided to spend Christmas Night.

“So what can I expect at a Malfoy family Christmas?” Albus asked conversationally in an effort to distract himself from the miserable sensation of impending doom that was creeping up on him at the thought of going home.

“Well, from what I gather they're not as rowdy as yours—less people, at least,” Scorpius said thoughtfully as he eased back against the seat. “It's usually just me, Mother and Father, and my grandparents. Sometimes my Aunt Daphne comes round, but it's usually just the five of us. We have gift exchange in the mornings, then I can do whatever I like until evening for Christmas Dinner. I've been trying to get Father to buy those Wizarding Crackers, like I've seen with some other families, but I think he thinks it's unbecoming of a Malfoy to wear silly hats at dinner.”

Both boys were silent for a moment, similar smiles of amusement of their faces. Albus could guess that Scorpius, like him, was picturing Draco or Lucius Malfoy in a cracker hat. Albus thought on what Scorpius said, and he hated to admit how lonely it sounded. Whether he was at home or the Burrow for Christmas, it was always full to bursting with music, people, and noise, and by contrast it sounded sort of lonely to Albus, though he didn't want to say so.

“Father told me they used to host some sort of Winter Ball,” Scorpius continued, his hands still intertwined with Albus's, and he shifted a little closer to him as he spoke, “but that was before I was born. They stopped after the war, though Father never told me why.”

Albus could guess why.

After asking his father in a moment of frustration why so many people harassed Scorpius, he had told Albus in confidence about how after the war many were people were deeply distrustful of the entire Malfoy family, and Draco had worked tirelessly for many years to salvage the family name. Unfortunately, the prejudice towards their family lived on, and in true _Sins of the Father_ fashion, it was Scorpius who paid the price for it. Albus didn't know how much Scorpius knew about this, and simply nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Well I'm looking forward to a little peace this holiday,” Albus said eventually, and Scorpius smirked a little.

“Where you're going? Don't count on it,” Scorpius replied with a short laugh.

“You're such a comfort,” Albus replied sarcastically.

“I do what I can.”

 

The rest of the trip was spent alternating between chatting idly about what pranks James was likely to attempt to execute on Albus the moment he got home, and whether Draco would let them share a room Christmas Night or not. Albus had an idea what he'd _like_ to give Scorpius for Christmas, and such a thing required them to share a room (and hopefully a bed), but he wasn't sure if the other boy was ready for such a big step in their relationship. Even so, the idea of it filled him with a warmth that had very little to do with the temperature inside their train compartment.

 

At King's Cross, Albus spotted his father on the platform, and he seemed to be arguing with Draco Malfoy(again). His arms were crossed, and it seemed as though he was refusing to budge on some topic of debate or another, but Albus hadn't the faintest idea what they could possibly be bickering about _this_ time. Their rivalry was legendary, and Albus often wondered why they couldn't just give it a rest.

Albus made a big show of collecting his bag slowly, and when he was certain that their train car was empty, he turned to Scorpius and dragged him in for a kiss.

It was a far cry from the gentle pecks they'd shared so far that day; it was sloppy and heated, and Albus hoped it would be enough to carry the pair of them over to the next time they'd see each other.

When they broke apart Scorpius was rather pink, but he did not look displeased with the kiss in the least. He reached out to squeeze Albus's hand and he kissed him one last time, more chastely than Albus had. They turned towards the compartment door, and Albus almost dropped his bag when he saw his sister standing there, staring at him with wide eyes.

The moment their eyes locked she darted off, and with a curse Albus hurried after her, casting one last apologetic look to Scorpius before he chased her down.

“Lily!” Albus called, jumping off the train at the far end, and Albus was horrified to see that she was heading right for their parents. “Lily, _wait_!” He caught up with her and grabbed her arm, and she shook him off with an infuriated look in her eyes.

“I knew it, _I knew it_!” she snapped at him, “well, I knew it in the sense of having absolutely no idea,” she amended, but pushed forward quickly, “but I knew _something_ was going on! This isn't about us at all, is it? You just want to spend the holiday with your _boyfriend!_ ”

“That's not just it and you know it,” Albus hissed, catching sight of his mother and aunt approaching them out of the corner of his eye. “You know Goddamn well that you lot spend half your time at home taking the mickey out of me because of where I've been sorted. What if we were all Slytherins, and _you_ were the only Gryffindor? Well let me tell you this Lily—it's awful. _Awful_. Poor me for wanting to spend a few days with people who won't treat me like a freak for what house I'm in. And I swear if you say _one word_ about Scorpius to Mum or Dad I'll hex you again.”

“You wouldn't do it,” Lily hissed back, “Mum would kill you. You haven't got the stones.”

“Oh I've got the stones,” Albus replied venomously, “I've got lots and lots of...stones.” His expression softened a little, and he let go of her arm. “Look, just don't tell them, please? I get enough shit for being the only Slytherin, I don't want to add on the only poufter on top of that—James would never let me hear the end of it.”

“Fine,” she said with a heavy sigh, “I just don't think it's as bad as you think it is Al, we all love you, you know that, right? We're family.”

“I know,” Albus said with a small smile. He knew she meant well, and he counted his lucky stars that it was at least _Lily_ that had caught them and not Rose. She would have run straight to her mother.

“Everything all right you two?” Aunt Hermione asked as she stepped up to them with a warm smile.

“Fine,” the pair chorused, and she eyed them suspiciously, but didn't comment on it.

“Okay, come on then, everyone's waiting for you,” their aunt said, and Albus fell into step with his sister to follow the adults. He caught Scorpius's eye in passing, and they shared a small smile before the three of them slipped off the platform and back into the muggle world.

 

Few words were exchanged between the adults, and Albus could feel tension between him and his cousins so thick that it could be cut it with a knife. It was almost as though he was under a spotlight, and Albus shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably as he and Lily followed their mother and father out to the car and away from the others. Hopefully the time apart would calm their ridiculous feeling of betrayal, though somehow Albus doubted it.

“Where's James?” Lily asked conversationally as their father tapped the steering wheel with his wand, and the ignition started.

“Work still,” their mother replied, turning to smile at each of her children in turn. She, too, looked a little tense. “He'll be home for dinner. He skived off on his duties so your uncle is making him do inventory as punishment.”

“What did he do this time?” Albus asked, unable to keep himself from grinning a little.

“He was chatting up pretty witches instead of minding the till,” their father replied, a note of amusement in his voice, and the pair watched as their mother swatted him. He continued as though nothing had happened, and he was still grinning a little. “Anyway, he should be finished soon, and he'll Floo home.”

Albus slouched back in his seat a little and swallowed a sigh of relief. At least he'd have some time to brace himself for James's heckling. Lily was one thing, but James was a whole different kind of pain in the arse. 

 

~*~

  

They were halfway through dinner when James tumbled out of the kitchen fire in a heap.

“Have fun at work dear?” their mother asked sweetly, and James grunted, looking cranky and exhausted. “ _That'll_ teach you to skive off work, I should hope.”

“ _Don't bet on it,_ ” Albus muttered under his breath, and his father suddenly coughed so falsely that Albus was certain that he was covering up a laugh.

James stomped upstairs to wash up, then returned to the table ten minutes later still looking sulky. He tucked into his food, and spent the rest of the meal shooting nasty glares at Albus, though his elder brother didn't say a word. Albus rolled his eyes, silently amazed at how even at nineteen James could act every part the petulant child.

Sensing that an explosion from his brother was imminent, Albus excused himself instead of staying for trifle, and hurried upstairs.

Albus felt himself relax a little the moment he stepped out of the hall and into his bedroom. Even though he was incredibly stressed about Christmas Eve, he had to admit that it was nice to be home.

His twin bed was pushed into the corner of a medium-sized room beneath a large window that faced the back garden, and he'd pinned a little Slytherin flag to the wall, next to a smattering of photographs of his friends (most of which were photos of Scorpius). His desk stood against the opposite wall and displayed framed photographs of Merlin and Severus Snape—Albus's small reminder to himself that not _every_ Slytherin was evil, and next to that was a large bookcase.

Albus hadn't been standing there for a full minute before he heard a sharp tapping on his window, and he looked over to see Scorpius's eagle owl perched on the sill.

“That certainly didn't take long,” Albus remarked with a soft chuckle, and he crossed the room to let the owl in, and accepted the tightly wound scroll from the him, and it perched on the back of Albus's desk chair while he unrolled it.

 

_Albus,_

 

_Hope you are still able to come Christmas Night, your sister did not look best pleased._

_Father reminded me that regardless, you're still welcome._

 

_Scorpius_

 

Smiling warmly at the note, and he pocketed it while he grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment. He loaded his quill with his favourite emerald green ink, and set about composing a response.

 

_Scorpius,_

 

_It's OK, I got Lily to not say anything. James has been in a foul mood since he got home (he got in trouble at work) so I'm expecting him to bite my head off at some point soon._

 

Albus paused, and remembered what Scorpius had written, and something about the phrasing made him wonder.

 

_Does your father know about us?_

 

_Albus_

 

He finished the letter and handed it back to the eagle owl along with an Owl Treat, and it took off gracefully through the open window.

After latching the window shut again Albus sat down heavily upon his bed and fell back against the mattress to stare at the ceiling. He wasn't sure how he felt about Draco Malfoy knowing about them, and he secretly hoped that if he did, he had the good sense to not mention it to his own father. Albus had no idea how he'd react to _that_ piece of news, but if it got back to Uncle Ron...Albus shuddered. He gave Albus a hard enough time when he'd gotten a few drinks in him, he couldn't imagine how much worse it'd be if he knew that he and Scorpius were involved.

A soft tapping on his door drew Albus out of his thoughts, and he sat up with a soft groan.

“C'min,” he called out, and his father stepped into his room.

“Hey Al,” he said with a warm smile. “Think we could talk?”

“Er, okay,” Albus said uncertainly, having a sinking feeling that he knew what his father wanted to _talk_ about.

Harry shut the door, grabbed Albus's desk chair, and pulled it over to the bed. Albus folded his legs under him while he waited for his father to speak; he sat down alongside the bed and faced Albus, and was silent for several long moments before he finally spoke.

“I want to know Al,” he began, “if the teasing from your cousins was so bad, why didn't you ever say anything before? As for your uncle, he should know better than that, and I'm really reluctant to force you to come to the Burrow on Christmas Eve if you're gonna spend the whole evening being miserable.”

“It's okay Dad,” Albus said at once, dropping his gaze to the mattress as he thought how to best phrase what he was thinking, “I mean...I appreciate when you make them knock it off, and I love my family, I do, but...” Albus broke off when he felt emotion swell in his throat. “I'm just so tired of being treated like a freak just because I was sorted into Slytherin.”

His father seemed to start slightly at the word _freak_ , and Albus regarded him with confusion. After a moment his father seemed to recover from whatever had caused the reaction as he continued.

“You're not a freak Al, we love you no matter what house you're in,” he said firmly, “and _believe me_ when I say that I know what it's like to not feel welcome in your own home. That being said, I still do feel like Christmas should be a time for family. Draco gave me more than a piece of his mind on the others' treatment of you, and if you want to stay home Christmas Eve, I won't fault you for it, and neither will your mother.”

“No,” Albus said, dropping his gaze with a heavy sigh, “I'll come. Teddy'll be there and he and I get on well enough—assuming he's not glued at the lips to Victoire,” he added with a grimace, and smiled weakly when his father laughed. “I can tough it out for one evening. And...thanks for letting me go, I'm really looking forward to it.”

Chuckling again, his father stood and ruffled his hair, “clearly you spend too much time with them already—you're starting to sound like a Malfoy. I'll be downstairs if you wanna talk more, all right?”

“All right,” Albus agreed with a smile, mildly confused by the statement. His father didn't sound disappointed, nor did he sound approving. He eyed his father oddly as he replaced his chair and stepped out.

Albus stood and stretched, and pulled one of his muggle novels from his bookshelf _—Fluke_ by Christopher Moore _._ He never caught all the references, but he enjoyed the escape it offered from the impending _traitor!_ lecture he was bound to receive from his brother sometime soon.

It was not yet nine when James burst in without knocking, but he looked at least a little better than he had at dinner, but it was clear that he was still in a foul mood.

“What d'you want James?” Albus asked as he marked the page and glanced over to his elder sibling.

“I wanna know why you're bailing on us to go hang out with the _Malfoys_ on Christmas Night,” he sneered the name, and Albus frowned. How many times was he going to have to repeat himself?

“Ask Lily or Dad,” Albus replied tiredly as he flopped back on his bed and picked his book back up.

“No,” James said stubbornly, “I wanna hear it from you. They're the _Malfoys_ for Merlin's sake. It's one thing to _have_ to put up with them at school, but on holiday—”

“— _Maybe_ it's because they actually treat me decently?” Albus interrupted, the jibes at Scorpius and his family snapping Albus's patience, and James appeared a little taken aback by the anger in his tone. “When's the last time I've been at home or at the Burrow, and I've not heard at least one 'next Dark Lord' comment or 'traitor' jibe because of where I was sorted? If you wanna blame someone for me taking off on Christmas Night, blame yourselves. I'm tired of having to put up with it.” Albus slumped back again with a frustrated sigh. “Just get out James.”

He left.

 

Over the next few days, Albus did his best to keep things civil between himself and his siblings, both of whom were still annoyed with him for taking off; but at least his parents seemed completely fine with it, and treated him no differently. His father in particular was extra diligent about cutting James off when he got started on giving Albus a hard time, and he was both grateful and a little embarrassed by the attention in equal measure.

In that time, he and Scorpius maintained a steady stream of correspondence, which was one of the few things keeping him sane at the moment.

 

_Albus,_

 

_No I don't think he knows about us, but he's quite keen on letting you spend the holidays with us, I may have mentioned your complaints about your family picking on you for being in Slytherin..._

 

_Scorpius,_

 

 _I don't know whether I should groan or say thank you for that, it's a bit embarrassing. I mean, I know I complain about them a lot but I don't_ hate _my family, I've just sort of hit the end of my tether on their teasing..._

  

_Albus,_

 

_I've known you for seven years, you needn't explain to me. I can imagine it would be frustrating. Father just has a protective streak with young Slytherins, it's not just you. I know it has something to do with the war, but he's never explained it properly to me..._

 

By Christmas Eve, buoyed by his and Scorpius's frequent letters, he didn't feel as apprehensive about heading over to the Burrow that evening that he normally would have. James had finally calmed down, though he still looked a little sour about it all, he seemed to have finally learnt to leave Albus alone about it. That, or their father had bitten his head off again over it all.

After breakfast, Albus went back to his room to sort out his gifts for everyone and to pack an overnight bag for his night at Malfoy Manor. He had barely started however when a sharp tapping on his window drew his attention away from the tasks at hand, and his mouth split into a grin when he saw the eagle owl there.

He let it in and accepted the letter, breaking the seal quickly to see what Scorpius had to say.

 

_Albus,_

 

_Father says you can come round noon tomorrow by Floo, but he wants you to let us know if you think you'll be earlier or later than that._

_He's going to let us use one of the guest quarters to sleep in, as it has two beds. But to save space I'm sure we could use just one, if you know what I mean._

_I'm dreadful at this, as I'm sure you can tell, but I can't wait to see you._

 

_x_

_Scorpius_

 

Feeling suddenly very warm, Albus sat on his bed and took several minutes to calm himself down at the idea of Scorpius's hint before he stepped out of his room to find his father.

“Daaaaad!” Albus called, the letter crammed in his pocket to keep from his father asking to see it, as _that_ would be more than a little embarrassing.

“Down here!” He called, and Albus reached the main level of the house to see him carrying an armful of gifts from his study and into the sitting room.

“Er, Scorpius said I can go over round noon tomorrow, would that be all right? He said to let him know soon if you'd rather I leave at a different time,” Albus said, chewing at his bottom lip as he saw the hurt look cross his face, but he tried to not let his father's disappointment at his longing to go over to the Manor sway him.

“That'll be fine,” he said at last, “is Draco letting you use a guest room?”

“Erm, yes, one of the rooms with two beds so that Scorpius and I can share,” Albus replied carefully, his eyebrows raising in surprise when he saw his father's expression harden. He didn't look upset or disapproving exactly, more...irritated.

“That's fine,” his father repeated after a moment, though he still carried that strange look on his face. “Have you packed an overnight bag?”

“Er, yeah, I'm doing it now,” Albus replied, feeling increasingly awkward as the conversation went on.

“All right then,” he said with a faint smile, though Albus wasn't certain how much of it was forced, “go let Scorpius know, and we'll be leaving for the Burrow early this afternoon, so try to be ready by then.”

“Okay,” Albus said, returning the smile. “And, um, thanks Dad.”

“Anytime.” 

 

~*~

  

With the promise that he'd be seeing Scorpius the next day, Albus felt like he could take on the world. It had been a long time since he'd felt so confident, and as he stood before his wardrobe trying to decide what to wear for their trip to the Burrow, he grinned to himself as he selected a pair of black jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a V-neck jumper in deep green. He had a feeling he'd regret his clothing choice it in about an hour, but for the first time, he wanted his family to be _aware_ of his difference, rather than be ignorant of it.

 

When he stepped down to join the others his father arched a questioning brow at his choice of attire, while James merely crossed his arms and glared. Albus ignored him, and followed his family into the Floo.

 

Albus greeted his gran with a hug, who regarded his clothes with a smile, but said nothing, and Albus had to wonder if his father or mother had spoken to her about everything he'd been dealing with. Granddad Weasley welcomed with a slap on the back and a quick half hug, and Albus got out of the way quickly so that his parents and siblings could greet the Weasley Matriarch and Patriarch in turn.

Weaving through cousins, aunts, and uncles, Albus offered each of them a quick greetings and insincere smile as he made his way to the sitting room. He quickly found who he was looking for, but Albus's face fell a little when he saw Teddy snuggled up with Victoire in a corner, talking quietly.

Rearranging his face into something neutral to hide his disappointment, he grabbed a bottle of butterbeer from the table that had been set up, bedecked with all manner of food and drink, and plopped himself down on one of the available chairs.

Albus watched his relatives quietly while he picked at the edge of the butterbeer label, not engaging, merely watching. His confidence from earlier was quickly draining away, and a maudlin sort of feeling took its place. After so many years being poked fun at for his house affiliation, he now felt depressingly detached from his own family. True, it wasn't as bad now compared to when he was eleven, now having adopted the Slytherin sarcasm and indifference quite well, as well as the ability to mimic Scorpius's disdainful tone, which he employed almost strictly on Uncle Ron, if nothing else to see the highly entertaining look of horror on his face when he heard someone _he_ was related to speaking like that.

“Well if it isn't our resident snake in the grass,” a sudden voice said, and Albus looked up warily, but relaxed a little when he saw his Uncle George plop down next to him.

“Hey Uncle George,” he said, sipping at his butterbeer, doing his best to exude a mask of cool confidence like Scorpius had shown him, but if the look on his Uncle's face was any indication, he hadn't entirely managed it.

“I've been hearing some funny rumours from one of your cousins,” he said conversationally, nodding over to where his daughter, Roxanne, was playing Exploding Snap with Lily. “You're taking off for the Malfoy Manor tomorrow for Christmas Night?”

“Yeah,” he replied, unable to keep a smile from his lips as he said it. He ran through his mental list of adult-friendly almost-polite snide comebacks as he braced himself for his uncle's reaction.

“Well we'll miss you, but I bet it'll make a nice change for you, yeah?” He asked with a grin.

Albus stared. Of all the reactions he'd expected, that hadn't been one of them.

“Um, yeah,” Albus cleared his throat as he got over his initial shock, “I'm looking forward to it.”

“That's good to hear,” his uncle replied, still smiling, then his expression shifted to conspiratorial.

“Listen,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I've been working on a new Skiving Snackbox, Diarrhea Damsons,” he fished in his pocket and pulled out what looked like some sort of fruit-based sweet, then tucked it away again. “Ron gives you any trouble, just let me know.”

“Thanks Uncle George,” Albus said with a short laugh, “I will.”

He clapped him on the shoulder once, offered him a wink, then crossed the room to talk with his wife, and the empty seat was immediately taken up by Teddy.

“And _when_ do you show up to the Burrow and _not_ come say hello to me?” he asked, one violet eyebrow arching high as he crossed his arms. Albus smiled apologetically.

“You looked a little busy when I got here. Wouldn't want to interrupt your Weasley Mating Ritual,” Albus answered, and Teddy snorted.

“Ha ha, very funny. It's going well, thanks for asking,” he said with a note of sarcasm in his voice, his eyes following the girl as she crossed the room to speak to one of her siblings. Her blonde hair reminded Albus painfully of Scorpius, and he tried to imagine him in the thick of all this, and struggled to swallow a laugh at the mental image. Teddy waited until Albus was taking another drink of his butterbeer before he posed his next question.

“And how are things going between you and Scorpius?” he asked innocently, and Albus choked.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Albus asked, wincing at telling quality to his voice. Teddy's grin widened.

“It's written all over your face. And Victoire told me where you'd be spending Christmas Night, who heard it from Dominique, who heard it from James, who heard it from Lily, who heard it from Harry, and I figured that that was the most likely explanation.” He dropped his voice to a whisper as he continued, “Your secret's safe with me Al, I don't think anyone else has put two and two together yet.”

“Definitely not,” Albus said hoarsely as he coughed the last dregs of butterbeer out of his lungs, “I'd know, because I'd never hear the end of it from James. But...thanks. For not saying anything, I mean.”

“S'what I'm here for Al,” Teddy replied, draping an arm over his shoulders in a casual half-hug.

The evening progressed, and Albus began to feel a twinge of regret for complaining so vehemently about his family in the lead-up to Christmas. Not one person had given him a hard time, but then he hadn't spoken to any of his siblings or cousins around his age all evening, and his Uncle Ron seemed to be avoiding him as well. It felt a little strange, and Albus wasn't certain whether he should be hurt or relieved by the brushoffs.

 

Coming back from the loo his luck began to wane, and he groaned inwardly when he heard a familiar sneering voice from ahead of him.

“Look out guys, it's the resident Slytherin!” Roxanne teased, and Albus rolled his eyes. He looked from her to Lucy and Hugo, and arched a brow at them.

“Don't you guys think it's about time you came up with some new material? The 'oh no here comes the evil Slytherin' routine is rather tired, don't you think?” Albus jammed his hands into his pockets as he arched a brow at the three of them, but the question didn't deter them.

“How can we ignore it, cousin?” Lucy asked, “first you get sorted into Slytherin, then you bugger off to the _Malfoys_ for Christmas Night, and _now_ you show up to the Burrow in Slytherin colours? You're like...like...a betrayer!” she proclaimed, earning muttered agreements from the other two. “Christmas is a time for family, not questionable liaisons with rotten families like _them_.”

“You _are_ aware that we are distantly related to them, right?” Albus asked, and when they didn't respond he continued in the same deadpan tone of voice. “If you're so offended by my seeking out a holiday event with people who _won't_ heckle me for my school house, maybe try...oh, I don't know, _not_ heckling me for my school house? Your convoluted summary of my recent activities aside, I can't recall any time in recent history where the Malfoys could be called _rotten_. Remember when Draco Malfoy funded a youth charity for muggleborns who lost their parents in the war, or the house for the children of Death Eaters who were disowned for refusing to follow in their parents' footsteps, or, more recently, the extension of Diagon Alley that serves as a residential neighbourhood, complete with a pre-Hogwarts primary school for magical children of every background?” He paused his monologue to take in their blank expressions. “I know,” he said with sarcastic disdain, “just _evil_.”

He stalked off before any of them could answer, and he remembered suddenly why he'd wanted out of these festivities in the first place.

Albus slipped outside without his cloak. The crisp air was refreshing, and helped relieve him of some of his anger. Albus thought he could distantly hear his father's voice rise suddenly, but he wasn't certain, and circled the house, his trainers crunching in the frosty grass and thin snow cover until he found an upturned bucket, and he sat down heavily.

“That looked like fun,” a voice said suddenly, and Albus looked up to see Teddy standing there, Albus's cloak in his hand. He accepted the garment with a nod, and pulled it on.

“Can't remember when I've enjoyed myself more,” he answered sarcastically, while he leant against the house's siding. “And yet they wonder why I want to go off somewhere else for the holidays.”

“Ah, people can be stupid about their school houses,” he replied, conjuring a seat for himself and pulled up next to Albus. “My dad was a Gryffindor, my mum was a Hufflepuff, and my gran was a Slytherin. It's not the house that defines you, it's the person.”

“Like my middle namesake?” Albus asked tonelessly. It wasn't exactly the first time he'd heard this speech.

“Severus Snape, from what Harry tells me, was a right bastard. Snide, bitter, arsehole that was about as pleasant as a case of boils on your—well, you get the picture.” Teddy grinned, “ _but_ he was a bona fide hero. I heard all the stories growing up. He saved Harry's skin more times than I can count, and he never, _never_ asked to be thanked. He just did it. And then Peter Pettigrew, one of the people responsible for bringing back Voldemort to begin with was a—”

“—Gryffindor, I know,” Albus mumbled, staring across the back garden morosely. “I _did_ take History of Magic, you know.” He sat up and leant back again. “I sometimes wish I could've met Sirius Black, my dad's godfather, you know?” Albus said, and Teddy nodded for him to continue. “Just to ask _how_ he did it, being the only Gryffindor in a house of Slytherins.”

“He did exactly what you're doing Al,” a second voice chimed in, and the pair turned to see Harry standing by the door, watching them both with a smile, his arms folded across his chest. “He went somewhere he felt accepted for who he was, which was your great grandparents' house—my dad's parents. _Unlike_ Orion and Walburga Black however, we don't hate you for being sorted into Slytherin, Weasleys just have a bad habit of not being able to stop when a joke is no longer a joke.”

Albus smiled weakly at his father, and nodded a little, mildly embarrassed that he'd overheard him—it was rare that he brought up the late Sirius Black. His father always looked so sad at the mention of him, and always avoided discussing him where he could. Even so, Albus still managed to hear about all the mad stunts he'd gotten up to with his grandfather and Teddy's father.

“Come on,” he nodded towards the door, “your gran is putting out the puddings, we'll get going after.”

Feeling marginally better, Albus stood and followed Teddy and his father back inside.

 

Albus picked at a raspberry tart for the better part of an hour while he talked quietly with Teddy. Now that things had calmed down (and his blonde distraction had gone home early) he began to question Albus about Scorpius, which was both wonderful, as he didn't really have anyone to talk about it with, and embarrassing, because he'd never had a significant other in any capacity before.

“There's one thing I've always wondered,” Teddy said softly, a mischievous glint in his eye that told Albus that he would probably not like the question, “what do blokes look like when they come?” Albus clapped a hand to his mouth to avoid spraying Teddy with pastry crumbs, while Teddy continued speaking as though nothing was wrong. “Because let me tell you, girls, for all their poise and grace, look downright _goofy_ when they—”

“All right, all right, enough!” Albus said quickly, and Teddy grinned at him. “I'd rather _not_ have that mental image of my cousin, thank you very much. And how the hell should I know? We only started seeing each other a little while ago.” He cast a quick glance around the room to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then refocused his attention on Teddy. “I can let you know on Boxing Day, if you're that curious.”

Albus grinned when Teddy took his turn at nearly choking on the shortbread in his mouth at Albus's words.

 

The rest of the evening passed amicably enough, Teddy keeping him company, though continued to (teasingly) pose a number of deliberately oversexed questions, which Albus skirted around with a laugh. A little after eleven, the Potters bid the rest of the family good night, and he got some extra hugs from the aunts, uncles, and grandparents, given that he would be absent tomorrow night. His Uncle Ron was curiously absent, though the self-satisfied look on Uncle George's face told him that he had a feeling he knew exactly where his uncle had wandered off to.

 

Albus was the last out of the Floo, but the family was too tired to do much in the way of talking as they all headed up to bed, mumbling 'good night' to one another in passing, but as Albus made for his room, James stopped him abruptly with a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to his elder brother apprehensively, but the soft look on his face startled him, especially after dealing with an exceptionally antagonistic James for the better part of the week.

“Al...I just wanna say I'm sorry,” James said, his tone genuinely remorseful, “I've been a total arse to you ever since you and Lily came home, and...well, Dad talked to me about it a bit, and I didn't realize you dreaded coming home so much.”

“I'm used to it with you,” Al replied with a crooked smile, “it's fine, really. See you in the morning?”

“'Course,” James replied with a weak smile, and with one last squeeze of his shoulder James disappeared into his bedroom.

Albus stared at the shut door for a moment, caught between amusement at his father's actions, and annoyance that he had gone to such lengths to get James to mellow out. Albus knew he meant well, but he couldn't help but wonder if this was some roundabout manipulation to get him to change his mind and go to the Burrow tomorrow evening. He shook his head a little, then slipped into his own room. 

 

~*~

  

The first thing Albus was aware of the following morning was a satsuma hitting him in the temple.

“Oi! Sleepyhead! It's Christmas!” James called from his doorway.

Albus sat up with a groan, and rubbed at his eyes while he ducked the next citrus projectile, and the clementine bounced harmlessly off the wall before it landed in his lap.

“You know,” Albus began, while he massaged his temple and glared at his brother, “ _most_ people just wake their siblings up by calling their name or shaking them or something. Fruit isn't usually involved.”

“And when does our family do anything the _usual_ way?” James asked with a grin. “C'mon, everyone else is already up.”

Yawning and stretching, Albus got out of bed and slid into his slippers and dressing gown. He took his time shuffling downstairs, and by the time he made it to the sitting room there was already tea, crumpets, and toast on the coffee table, and the underside of the tree was bedecked with a modest pile of gifts.

“Merry Christmas guys,” Albus said, and they all chorused the sentiment back at him. He plopped down on the settee next to Lily and helped himself to some tea while the others dug into their stockings. He joined in, and soon the sitting room floor was littered with brightly coloured paper, while their family cat, Huntokar, routinely stole the discarded ribbons and darted off with them.

When the stockings were completed, his father set himself down next to the tree and began to dole out the gifts. They all pulled on their annual Weasley jumpers, (green for Albus again) and were soon surrounded with piles of things from their grandparents and each other. This included a fancy new fur-lined cloak for his mother from his father, which she insisted on modelling for them, inciting bored groans from Albus and James, and uproarious laughter from his father and Lily.

It was a nice, normal Christmas Morning, and after the rocky start Albus's holiday had had, he was deeply relieved for it. He spent his morning with his family, alternating between enjoying the gifts he'd gotten (except for his tin of treacle fudge from Hagrid, which was softening by the fire with everyone else's) and grazing on a steady stream of festive breakfast foods. At eleven-thirty, he gathered up his things and carried them up to his room, had a quick wash and got dressed in proper clothes, though a little more tastefully that he normally would have done during the holidays, given the Malfoys' general lack of being caught dead in any article of clothing one might deem 'casual'.

As noon ticked closer, Albus's excitement hit its peak and he thundered downstairs with his rucksack bouncing off his shoulder as he went, and did not even bother to try to quell his excited grin as he returned to the sitting room to bid goodbye to his family.

“If you change your mind, you know your gran won't mind if you just show up last-minute,” his mother said, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I know Mum,” Albus replied, hugging her back. Lily was next, then James clapped him on the shoulder again, and his father pulled him into a casual half-hug.

“See you guys tomorrow then,” Albus said. James grinned and opened his mouth to say something, but his father elbowed him sharply with a glare, and he quickly shut up. Albus eyed the pair oddly for a moment, then with a mental shrug he helped himself to the Floo powder and tossed it into the grate with a cry of, “Malfoy Manor!” and his sitting room disappeared in a whirl of green flame.

  

Albus was rather proud of himself that he managed to stay on his feet when he stumbled out of the Malfoys' grand fireplace, and casually brushed the ash off his shoulders as he went.

“Albus,” Draco Malfoy stood from the chair he'd been occupying, and stepped forward with the casual Malfoy grace Albus had grown so accustomed to seeing over the years, and reached forward to shake his hand and clap him on the shoulder simultaneously. “It's good to have you, did your family behave themselves last night?”

Albus shot Scorpius a look over Draco's shoulder, but he refused to meet his eye while he shifted his gaze back to the elder Malfoy and struggled to reign in his embarrassment.

“More or less,” he replied with a meek smile. “Thank you for having me Mr Malfoy, I really appreciate it.”

“As I have told you over a dozen times,” he said with an amused smirk, “you may call me Draco. And of course, you're always welcome, as you well know,” he drawled, and Albus smiled sheepishly. He stepped back and Albus went to greet Astoria, Lucius, and Narcissa in turn. It was difficult to work out whether they were actually pleased with his presence or not, given that no matter what situation they found themselves in, they always conducted themselves with their faces set in an expression of calm, paired with the practised grace one would expect from a Malfoy

“Come on,” Scorpius said as he took Albus by the arm once the pleasantries were out of the way, “I'll show you your room.” Smiling, Albus hastened to follow.

 

Scorpius led him to the front hall of the Manor, up the curved staircase to the second floor, and down three hallways before he stopped before a gilded mahogany door. Albus was all but dragged inside, but saw very little of it before Scorpius pressed him against the door's other side and captured his mouth in a hungry kiss. Albus responded at once, his arms linking around Scorpius's neck and kissed him back just as roughly.

“Missed me, did you?” Albus murmured, and Scorpius answered with another kiss.

They broke apart long enough for Albus to set his bag down and have a quick look around the room. It looked less like a guest quarters and more like a lavish hotel suite. Two twin beds sat side by side with identical night tables; a settee and two armchairs faced a fireplace with a low coffee table between them, and at the far end of the room Albus could see a door that likely led to an adjoining bathroom.

Albus stepped further inside and dropped his bag on one of the beds. Scorpius drew his attention back to him quickly by kissing him again, though the ferocity had dissolved to a muted glee; his hands rested lightly on Albus's hips while Albus had his arms draped over Scorpius's shoulders.

They slowly migrated to the settee in front of the fire, and two cups of cocoa materialized on the table before them. Scorpius settled into Albus's side, and they both reached for the mugs.

“So, do I dare ask what exactly you said to your father that would cause him to ask how my Christmas Eve went?” Albus asked lightly, and smiled a little when Scorpius flushed an attractive pink.

“I may have mentioned your ambush by your sister and those cousins of yours, and how endlessly you complained at the prospect of going home for the holidays,” he said, shifting his gaze to the fire while he sipped at his cocoa.

“Well, aside from a few of my cousins being ridiculously bitchy, it went over better than I expected. And my Uncle George slipped my Uncle Ron a new experimental joke sweet,” Albus said with a faint smile, and busied himself with his own mug.

“Do I _want_ to know?” Scorpius asked dubiously.

“I doubt it,” Albus replied, and they both laughed.

 

They spent the afternoon alternating between eating their body weight in sweets and snogging, with a charm on the door to warn them if anyone was coming and thus gave them enough time to straighten themselves out before the door was knocked upon.

Albus and Scorpius emerged at dinner time, after making sure that their clothes and faces did not give away what they'd been up to.

In spite of the fact that he'd had dinner with the Malfoys a number of times before, this time felt strangely different. Albus supposed it had to do with the fact that this wasn't just some random day of the week, but a Christmas dinner, which he'd grown up hearing his father constantly insist was a family-only affair.

The other Malfoys were seated at the far end of a long dining table, a Christmas goose with all the trimmings, a number of roasted and boiled vegetable side dishes, as well as two bottles of wine resting before them on the highly polished oak. Albus quietly marvelled at the stark contrast between this dinner and what he'd be subject to at the Burrow, and though it was quiet, it was not unnervingly quiet, or painfully formal, for which Albus was grateful.

Scorpius sat next to his mother, and Albus sat on his other side. Across from them were the elder Malfoys, Scorpius's grandparents, and Draco sat at the head of the table.

“I trust the rooms were to your liking Albus?” Draco asked as the pair settled in.

“Yes, they're great Mr Mal—er, Draco,” Albus replied, feeling himself go a little pink. It was a bit of a strange concept that he would allow such a thing, and it made Albus feel almost as though he was on equal footing with the older man—someone he'd always admired.

Draco nodded once, and a little house elf toddled into the room to serve them, prompting everyone in turn for which drink they would prefer, and it piled Albus's plate just as high as though he'd been at his gran's. Albus felt his insides squirm uncomfortably at being served by the little creature, given the amount of lectures his aunt had given him and his cousins on the subject of house elf enslavement, but the elf's absolute joy at the opportunity to serve them was endearing in a strange way, and he knew better than to comment on it in present company.

“I take it this is a little different than what you're used to, Mr Potter,” Lucius Malfoy observed over his wine while the others tucked in to their plates, the only sound the soft clink of cutlery, and the low murmur of idle chitchat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco narrow his eyes at his father.

“Lucius—” Narcissa said in warning, but the elder Malfoy ignored her, his gaze still fixed upon Albus.

“Er, yes sir,” Albus replied, wholly unused to being called _Mr Potter_ outside of his lessons. “More peaceful, at least. My family...well, _loud_ would be a mild way of putting it.”

“I do not doubt that,” he replied, and picked up his own fork. “Draco tells me that your family disapproves of your sorting quite wholeheartedly.”

“Er, well, most of the adults in the family don't care, but my cousins seem to think it's great fun to treat me like some sort of traitor for my house affiliations, given that they're all Gryffindors,” Albus said, feeling a flush rise in his cheeks as he spoke. Scorpius's grandfather always made him more than a little nervous, though he could never completely articulate why. There was just something intimidating about the man, and it always made him want to escape the situation as quickly as possible

“Ridiculous,” Lucius replied with a disapproving tut, “ _why_ one would be proud to reside in a house where nerve and bold action over intelligence and ambition is beyond me. It is a relief to see Dorea Black's great grandson has more sense of propriety than some in your family. To think that some would willingly choose to dirty their bloodline by willing wedding a mu—”

Draco cleared his throat loudly and pointedly, cutting Lucius off. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Astoria beat him to it.

“There is nothing to be gained by maintaining such staunchly pure bloodlines—except a distinct _lack_ of mental stability,” Astoria said, her voice hard and all but daring Lucius to contradict her. “A muggleborn's magic is just as good as a pure- or half-blood's.” She paused, glanced over to Albus, then looked back to Lucius. “Their treatment of young Mr Potter is unfair, but not unexpected, and is almost as bad as _some_ people's view of blood status."

Lucius looked positively livid, and Draco quickly cut in and went back to the main point, clearly doing his best to stop an argument before it started.

“You're always welcome here Albus, you know that,” Draco said simply, “be it a reprieve from thickheaded Gryffindor prejudice, or to spend time with my son or what have you, what _can_ be said for Slytherins past and present is we look after our own.” He eyed his father in warning, and at last Lucius deflated, and turned back to his dinner, looking alarmingly like an overgrown, sulking child. Something in both Draco, Narcissa, and Astoria's tones led Albus to believe that this was likely not the first time they'd had this debate. It amazed him how quickly Lucius had managed to go from House Discrimination to Blood Status Prejudice in the same breath, and Albus couldn't help but marvel at how far the family had come, if Lucius's attitude was anything to go by.

“Thanks Mr Mal—er, Draco,” Albus amended for the second time that evening, still unused to calling an adult he respected so much by his given name. Albus found himself a little startled when the elder Malfoy offered him a genuine smile in lieu of his usual smirk.

The talk slowly descended into less serious topics, thankfully none of which included mention of his family. The meal was delicious, almost as good as his gran's cooking, and it was followed by individually moulded Christmas puddings dredged in a rich butter rum sauce, and Albus nearly broke his teeth on the galleon embedded in his serving.

Following the after-dinner tea and coffee, Albus and Scorpius politely excused themselves to their room, but not before Albus thanked Draco for the dozenth time for letting him stay. His gratitude was waved off casually, and Scorpius dragged him away from the adults without a word.

There were a number of activities he'd love to be doing with Scorpius, but at the risk of getting caught by his partner's family stayed his hand, and instead they engaged in several games of chess, punctuated with idle chit chat ranging from speculating what was likely to happen the next time Albus came across his cousins after the break (“To be honest, if Roxanne doesn't try to hex me on the train I'll be surprised,” said Albus) to tentative discussion of their impending N.E.W.T.s and the prospect of finishing Hogwarts (“I don't exactly need a job, and father has suggested I do something philanthropic like him instead, but I rather like the idea of working a proper job. Perhaps some kind of research into Mind Magic and Healing, or something like that,” said Scorpius).

As the night wore on, Albus was amazed at how happy, full, and sleepy he felt. Usually when it was time to go home Christmas Night, he'd be full to bursting thanks to his gran, exhausted, and feeling a little downtrodden, as often his Uncle Ron would have had a little too much firewhisky by that point and begin to tease him about his sorting. His mother and father would insist he didn't mean it, but it never helped to quell the sting.

Tonight however, Albus didn't have a single negative thought in his mind, and he hadn't stopped smiling all evening. _I could get used to this_ , Albus thought, and did not feel the least bit guilty about skipping out on Christmas Dinner with his family. What had his father said the night before? To go where he felt welcome? He hoped that Draco's open invitation was genuine, as he rather liked the idea of repeating this next Christmas as well. He made a mental note to send Draco a thank you gift for extending the invitation while he instructed his bishop to take one of Scorpius's pawns.

Just before eleven there was a soft tapping on the door, and both boys turned to see Scorpius's mother let herself into the room.

“We're heading off to bed, are you two all right? Do you need anything?” She asked, smiling warmly at the pair of them.

“We're fine mother, thank you,” Scorpius said.

“Yeah, we're fine. Er, thanks again for letting me stay, it was really kind of you,” Albus added awkwardly, aware that he was repeating himself, but he had no idea how else to portray his gratitude for their hospitality.

“You are most welcome my dear,” Astoria said with a smile, “as Draco said, you're more than welcome. Try not to stay up too late, all right?”

“We won't,” Scorpius promised.

“Sleep well you two,” she said, though Albus couldn't help but notice that there was a strange, knowing glint in her eye. A split-second later it was gone, and Albus wondered if he'd imagined it. She let herself out and closed the door behind her, and the pair listened to the sound of her footfalls fading away. It was closely followed by the distinct sounds of the rest of Scorpius's family turning in for the evening.

Albus looked at Scorpius as the sounds died away, and in turn Scorpius looked at Albus. Even with the access to Scorpius's private Head Boy quarters back at Hogwarts, they had never gone very far, and now the implication from Scorpius earlier letter seemed to hang in the air between them like a dense fog.

“Erm, I suppose we should get ready for bed?” Albus asked awkwardly, breaking the tense silence.

“All right,” Scorpius replied, clearly aiming for his usual smooth drawl, but Albus could hear a distinct tremor lacing his words.

They took turns in the loo to brush their teeth and pull on their pyjamas, and when Scorpius walked out of the bathroom, his face was flushed and edged with nerves as he sat down next to Albus on one of the available beds. In that moment he looked much younger than his seventeen years, and Albus bit his lip as he looked at him.

“We don't have to do this, you know,” Albus said softly, “I know you said that you wanted to, but if you think you're not ready we can always wait.”

“No, I want to,” Scorpius said at once, “it's just...well, I'm nervous, too.”

Albus looked down at him, his expression wavering between nervousness and an attempt to regain his old cool aloof demeanour, but in light of what they were preparing to do, the illusion was utterly shattered. Albus reached forward and rested a hand on Scorpius's cheek, his thumb brushing over the bone lightly. Slowly he eased Scorpius into a kiss, a gentle brush of lips, nothing more, like dipping their toes into a lake before diving in.

Scorpius deepened the kiss almost at once, and shifted closer to rest a hand upon Albus's hip. Albus moved his hand from Scorpius's cheek to tentatively free the top button of his pyjama shirt, while he swiped his tongue along the blond's lower lip. Scorpius gasped softly, and parted his lips to dart his tongue out to meet Albus's.

Emboldened by his success, he loosed another button, and another, and slowly Scorpius's expanse of milky skin was exposed. He shivered a little as Albus broke the kiss; he caught his own bottom lip between his teeth as he nervously discarded his T-shirt and tossed it to the ground, while Scorpius went a little pink as he unbuttoned the pyjama top the rest of the way and discarded it.

Albus felt his breath catch. He'd seen Scorpius without his clothing before—six years in the same dormitory, it was inevitable—but this time Albus looked, _really_ looked at him; his tousled silver-blond hair, his thin and willowy frame with a scant amount of wiry hairs trailing down from his navel and disappearing into the top of his pyjama bottoms. Pyjama bottoms that left positively _nothing_ to the imagination, in particular the way they had begun to tent, (much like Albus's own) wholly giving away his partner's interest in their planned evening activities.

Scorpius picked up his wand from the night table and flicked it at the door, then set it down on the night table as he refocused his attention on Albus.

“Silencing Charm,” Scorpius explained and Albus grinned.

“Are you trying to tell me that you're a screamer?” He asked, and Scorpius swatted his shoulder.

“More like I don't want my father to hear a strange noise in the middle of the night and come investigate.”

“Is he likely to?” Albus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Scorpius answered at once. “You sneeze and he'll come to see what it was.”

Albus allowed his mind to wander for a moment, imagining how awkward it would be for Draco Malfoy, of all people, to walk in on them in the throes of passion. He shivered a little.

“Exactly,” Scorpius replied in response to Albus's reaction, then with a trademark Malfoy smirk in place, he pulled Albus back to him for another kiss.

The more they snogged, the more confident Albus became, and his hands began to awkwardly wander, mapping out every line of Scorpius's chest with his hands. His fingers found a nipple and he tweaked it gently, eliciting a soft gasp from his partner. Thrilled by his success, Albus slowly coaxed Scorpius onto his back, his knees braced on either side of his boyfriend's hips as his lips migrated from Scorpius's mouth to trail along his jaw and down the side of his throat, like he'd seen in his collection of naughty magazines. The action elicited another soft gasp from Scorpius, and Albus grinned, pleased with the result.

Scorpius was clearly not keen to lay there and let Albus do all the work. He took a firm hold on Albus's shoulders and arched his hips to grind his blatant erection into the other boy's, and a shuddering moan escaped from Albus's lips before he could stop it, and he was suddenly _very_ glad that Scorpius had thought to cast a Silencing Charm.

That simple act seemed to be the catalyst for them, and Albus yanked down Scorpius's pyjama bottoms, while Scorpius tugged down Albus's. They both kicked them off hastily, and Albus leant in, loving the way his body seemed to mould with Scorpius's like two halves of a whole, and he kissed him slowly, tenderly.

“You sure?” Albus asked, and Scorpius nodded fervently.

“Yes,” he whispered without hesitation. “Do you...I mean, do you know how to do this?” He asked, the nervousness from earlier returning to his voice.

“Well, I have about as much experience as you,” Albus answered with a weak smile, “but I know the theory. D'you have some lotion or something?” Albus asked, and Scorpius flushed a deep crimson. Confused by the reaction, he lifted himself up to let Scorpius wiggle out from under him partially, and watched as he dug into the bedside drawer to produce a little jar of lubricant.

“I bought it just in case,” Scorpius mumbled, still very red, and Albus struggled to bite back a chuckle of amusement as he accepted the little jar from his partner and kissed him again.

“Good call on that one. I heard it can be pretty uncomfortable with just spit,” Albus replied, and sat up, while Scorpius rolled onto his belly.

“Wait,” Albus said, reaching out to stay Scorpius's movements. “I want to see you.”

Scorpius rolled back to his original position, and Albus felt a stab of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He looked _so_ nervous. Albus leant forward and brushed a light kiss across his lips.

“Relax, I _promise_ I won't hurt you,” Albus murmured, setting down the jar to thread the fingers of his left hand with Scorpius's, and he felt some of the tension leave his companion.

“I trust you,” Scorpius replied softly, “I'm still a little...this is a big step for us.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“ _God_ no,” Scorpius answered at once, and Albus snorted a little.

Remembering the safe sex manuals the matron had given them back in their third year, he took the jar in hand and opened it, the sweet smell of rose and chamomile invading his senses as he took a small amount of the gel onto his fingers and coaxed Scorpius's thighs apart, exposing himself completely to Albus. He looked so vulnerable, the expression amplified somewhat by his almost tangible nervousness. Albus rested a hand against his abdomen, rubbing the tense muscles he found there, while he shifted his slick fingers to Scorpius's virgin entrance.

Scorpius gasped, and Albus froze his movements at once.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, and Scorpius shook his head minutely.

“No,” he said just barely above a whisper, “it just...feels strange.” He nodded for Albus to continue, and he slowly slid his fingers further in.

Once they were fully sheathed inside Scorpius, the heat that surrounded Albus's two digits nearly made him moan out loud. He felt a little dizzy as he imagined that same pressure around his cock, and it took all of his focus to let his fingers rest there for a moment so that Scorpius could acclimate to the sensation before he moved them experimentally. Albus curled them forward, and Scorpius's entire form stiffened, his eyes rolled up in his head, and Albus watched him grapple blindly at the bedsheets.

“Whatever you did... _do it again_ ,” Scorpius breathed, his eyes rather glazed as his nervousness was dampened by lust. Grinning a little, Albus did as he was asked, and Scorpius moaned again, squirming on Albus's fingers in the most delightful way.

Heartened at his success, he slowly withdrew his fingers and cast a quick cleaning charm on his hand. He then applied the lubricant to his cock, and lined himself up with Scorpius's prepared hole.

Albus slid in just as slowly as he had with his fingers, but it was a true test in restraint, as he would have liked nothing better than to thrust deep into Scorpius's arse, but he was not about to risk hurting him.

Beneath him, Scorpius hissed, Albus's cock being significantly thicker than a pair of fingers, and as before, Albus stilled his movements once he was fully inside of Scorpius. His fair legs locked around Albus's waist to hold him there, and he was flushed with arousal as he stared up at his partner.

“All right?” Albus asked, panting softly.

“H-hurts,” Scorpius muttered, his breathing shallow as he struggled to grow used to the sensation.

“It'll pass,” Albus murmured reassuringly, “just relax.” Scorpius nodded a little, and ever so slowly Albus felt some of his tension finally leave him.

“Okay,” Scorpius murmured, loosening his hold on Albus's waist slightly, while he took hold of Scorpius's hips and slid out slowly, and back in at the same pace. The look of pain on his face did not fall at first, but when his cock brushed _that spot_ again, he let out a guttural moan, and clenched around Albus's cock, eliciting a similar groan from him.

“Oh... _God,_ Scorpius you feel...” Albus's shaky voice trailed off, and he began to pick up his pace. Scorpius tried to follow his movements, both of them slick with sweat and breathing heavily.

Albus's orgasm was sudden, almost abrupt as he'd been so lost in the delightful sensation of Scorpius's arse clenching around him that he hadn't noticed the warmth that had pooled in his belly, nor the way his balls drew up, and thus his climax caught him off-guard. A little disappointed at his own lack of self-control, he reached forward to wrap a hand around Scorpius's cock and stroked it to completion before he pulled out and all but collapsed on the bed next to Scorpius.

A pair of lips brushed Albus's, and he leant into the light kiss, a weary, but content smile upon his face.

“That was...” Albus began, then focused his gaze on Scorpius, taking in his debauched, weary appearance, and the lazy smile upon his lips. “Was it good for you too?”

“It was better than I expected,” Scorpius murmured, and kissed him again.

After casting a few lazy cleaning spells, they got under the covers and curled up together. Scorpius's head was pillowed on Albus's upper arm, and they stared at each other through hooded eyes. They said nothing, too worn out by their activities, and sleep took them both quickly.

  

~*~

  

Early the following morning, the guest bedroom door creaked open.

It opened so silently that neither boy stirred, and Draco Malfoy took in the sight of his son intertwined with the young Potter child, both so content and peaceful in sleep. The sight of it elicited a soft chuckle from him, and he let the door shut soundlessly.

Draco stepped down the hall to his study, selected a fresh scroll of parchment as he sat down and picked up his favourite falcon quill. With a smirk, he wrote a very short letter.

 

_Potter,_

 

_I was right._

 

_Draco_

 

-Fin


End file.
